Adela Campallo, bailaora. Interview for Flamenco-world.com
“When I couldn’t
dance with my body,
I danced with my mind”
Silvia Calado. Seville, October 2009
Translation: Joseph Kopec
When she was a little girl, she
always used to sit on her doorstep looking at the longest
side of the street. Perhaps seeking the horizon, the one
which could hardly be discerned when a car accident was
about to cut short her career as a bailaora. Adela
Campallo has struggled for four years to overcome
a back injury. And by means of willpower, perseverance and
dancing, she now gets up on stage with the energy of days
gone by, but with the extra maturity you only get from an
extreme situation. ‘7 de mayo’ and ‘Horizonte’
are the shows with which she banishes the false reports
circulating about her disability and takes up her solo career
once more. But it might be more exact to say that she never
left it, since “when I couldn’t dance with my
body, I danced with my mind”.
In the courtyard of the Sevillian but cosmopolitan
Hotel EME, the conversation blends with the sound of the
fountain and the designer latticework. The subject is a
bailaor’s day-to-day work, the hours of study... and
that other thing which can’t be studied. Adela Campallo
believes in balance. “There are people who don’t
know how to dance without technique, who work like an athlete.
And like that, the artist’s spirit is covered up”,
the Sevillian bailaora explains. To which she adds that
“as soon as he’s missing something, he can’t
pull out another resource and he doesn’t realize that
they’re leaving out intuition, spontaneity, true art”.
And she asks a question logical in someone who graduated
from the company of Manuela
Carrasco herself: “Why does that happen in flamenco
nowadays?”.
Of course, she knows that “the opposite
happens, too, with that street artist who does a wonderful
little kick, but he’s missing the other thing, technique”.
That’s why she believes that the study routine is
fundamental. She has it and moreover, out of obligation,
since “with my problem, when I leave my back still
for two weeks, I can’t move”. Dancing is what
has healed her back injury caused by a car accident over
four years ago. “I’m not obsessed with technique.
What I have to be obsessed with is my baile, which is my
work and what I display when I get up on stage sure of what
I’m doing”, she elaborates. And back to balance:
“I don’t have a classical career,
but I do have to have my body trained technically to move
an arm, to be positioned. I can’t forget that there’s
something else inside an artist which keeps people in suspense.
What happens nowadays is that the audience is also kept
in suspense by technique, too. OK, but now stop and speak
to me with your regard, with your way of positioning, speak
to me motionless, speak to me with a simple jolt the way
Manuela Carrasco does or the way Eva Yerbabuena does. And
of course there are young people who manage to do that:
Rocío Molina, Rafael Estévez, Farruquito…
But a time comes when people forget about that and to me,
that’s flamenco. It’s technique, but it’s
also the other thing… and the other thing overpowers
me more. What really fills me is to listen to a cante and
I don’t care what’s set up, because if the cantaor
twists me backwards, I’m going to do it backwards
and not forwards”.
To what extent are your shows tied
together?
Of course, improvisation happens at times
in dancing; it isn’t the whole of a staged show. In
‘7 de mayo’ there’s discipline, a musical
script, there are some bells which recall a birth at all
times… But within each baile there is that moment
of spark, which not only I might give to it, but maybe it’s
being given by the one singing or the one on guitar. There
are bailes in which I need certain freedom. In the soleá,
starting with the beaten-out bulería until the end,
I haven’t set up anything. For at least three minutes,
I depend on what I’m given by the guitar and the cante.
Spontaneity has to be there at specific moments.
What role do you give to cante
and guitar in your shows?
A really important role because unless
you put together something by yourself, it’s all communication
between them and me. Manuela is great beside Joaquín
Amador, Eva is great beside Paco Jarana, and she’s
also great when Poveda sings for her and when José
Valencia sings for her. The show isn’t just the bailaora
and the triumph isn’t just hers; everything triumphs
because everything has a leading role. We depend on what’s
at the back; that’s why you have to know how to choose.
When you’re all creating,
do you take part in what’s being played for you or
sung for you?
Yes, I like to ask for what I want. I sometimes
even stress the musicians. I’m a real pain in the
neck, I go to the studio alone, bang, bang… Yesterday,
for example, we were with the galley of ‘Horizonte’
and I’m constantly participating in the musical part.
I also let them have their time alone, for them to bring
out music and starting there, I put things together, asking
them for more or fewer details. And the same in the cante;
I like to know at least what style I want in each baile
and afterwards give them freedom, since they know more than
me. I’d never tell Juan José Amador or José
Valencia or David
Lagos what they have to do, but I would tell them the
style and the form. And regarding the lyrics, it’s
more important to me for the cantaor to have something to
say, than what the text itself says.
You’ve known old-time cante
since you were a little girl. What inspires you the most?
What I like most in the world is Terremoto’s
seguiriya. It drives me wild; he’s one of the ones
I listen to most, together with Caracol, Pepe Pinto…
There used to be such diverse echoes, such different ways
of caressing cante…
How did you live flamenco in your
childhood?
They weren’t people who were dedicated
professionally, but it was a neighborhood with a lot of
art. My grandfather grew up in the Cava de los Gitanos in
Triana and he brought that to El Cerro. I’ve really
remembered that not because they’re artists, but because
it’s been lived. The parties at my house had singing
and dancing. I’ve always heard my aunt Pilar sing
me Triana’s soleá and La Lotera, which is what
I used to do in my family’s show: “Catalina
Fernández Seis-Gallos, born in Umbrete…”.
I did it from beginning to end with my coupons and my apron.
My mother used to sing with Pepe Marchena; she did start
out professionally. Since my father didn’t use to
let her sing, to win remnants of fabric on the radio contest,
she had to get angry with him. When she came back, they
made up. You have to listen to her por fandangos. But my
father was very jealous, come on and raise the kids…
and she gave it up. But my father loves it; he always listens
to the old-time stuff. He loves El Lebrijano, Juan Villar,
Paquiro… And my uncle Barragán is one of the
ones who has taught me the most about cante. He used to
get together with Camarón and other cantaores of
that generation. People have gone out to the country to
look for him to hear him sing fandangos by Tomás,
by Pepe Pinto, by La Niña de los Peines… he
knew them all.
Rafael and you on baile, Juan and
Mariano on guitar… Is it a coincidence that four of
you Campallo siblings devote yourselves to flamenco?
It is a little bit, because I don’t
remember any baile in the family; I do with cante. You like
it and it’s there; I used to draw upon the videos
of Manuela Carrasco, who’s the one that influenced
me the most. I learned her soleá by watching her
on video and you can’t imagine how I had to pester
my father until he bought me a VCR. A poor family, seven
brothers and sisters… Well, but then each one has
gone the way he’s wanted to. I have a brother who’s
a hairdresser and he sings wonderfully, with a really nice
accent and timbre, but he doesn’t like the art world
at all. But the art comes out with his scissors; he does
really weird patterns on heads. The eldest is the one who
likes it the most; he’s a flamenco fanatic and nevertheless,
he’s the one who does it all the worst. Each one chose
his own story.
Rafael and you began to study with
maestros José Galván and Manolo Marín…
Yes, but we haven’t had many instructors
for a long time. I consider that my bailes, apart from Manolo
and José who are the ones I have to be most grateful
to, are also the fruit of what I’ve learned from my
colleagues while already working. I haven’t had time,
the way it’s done now, to take so many courses, but
I have been lucky enough to work with colleagues who have
been like instructors to me: Javier Latorre, Andrés
Marín, Antonio Canales, Farruquito… And my
brother Rafael the same; he budded when he was really little
and he didn’t have time to study so much, but studies
on stage are the best thing an artist can have.
Do you feel that not having training
in classical is a handicap?
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“My
mind sometimes soars more than my body”
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In some ways it is, but I also think that
if I’d studied it, my personality wouldn’t have
been forged the way it is now. At some moments I feel I’m
at a disadvantage because I might have been able to join
other companies or… what happens is that my mind sometimes
soars more than my body. I might not have training in classical,
but I do have other training which is what flamenco requires.
With the one I have, I can perform a show. But there were
personal circumstances; at the age of fifteen I had to work
and bring home money. There were seven of us and I had to
help out. At the age of fifteen I went to Japan for six
months and I really didn’t go for pleasure. And when
I came back, I started working at tablaos and people already
started asking me for classes. In the end, I didn’t
have any time left to study. You train a different way.
That I could have done so when I was older, of course I
could have, but it’s hard to leave a groove. And perhaps
I wouldn’t have the flamenco personality I have now.
I am the way I am and I’m happy… although I
have little work, although they don’t give me room
because they want other things, I don’t mind.
And do you think it’s had
anything to do with your accident?
What’s happened to me really makes
me mad. There’s such a rumor going around now about
me and my back that… I know I’ve come out on
stage really bad; I’ve done so out of need and I admit
it. I thought that what little I could do, I would do, but
on stage you risk being judged. And yes, I’ve been
bad, I’ve come out on stage in bad shape, after having
been to the max. A few months after having performed to
the max at the Teatro Central with Guadiana, I had the accident.
When I returned to that stage, this time with ‘Otra
generación’ by José Miguel Évora,
people expected to see me like before. They couldn’t
see me like that; I could only lift my arms halfway. You
can’t explain yourself up on stage. I left in the
taranto crying in pain. I’ve come out to dance with
Canales, my eardrum burst and I was bad, really bad. But
what’s not right is that now that I’m OK, I’m
not given the chance to show it or they want to pigeonhole
me just collaborating with my brother. Give me the chance;
let me express myself. I either go solo in flamenco, or
I’m not going. I’m fed up with collaborating
with so-and-so or the other and then I’m told that
I always do the same thing, but what can I do in a single
baile? And what I’m always asked for is my forte:
seguiriya or soleá por bulerías. Let me breathe,
for if I have to hit myself in the head with a song now
that I’m OK, I’ll do it, but let me try. I think
I deserve it.
If you want to explain what happened,
please explain…
I had the car accident four years ago.
I had a lot of aftereffects and I came out on stage dying
with pain. People didn’t know if I was infiltrated,
or if I’d lost sixty percent of my hearing in one
ear. I’ve cried with pain and for not being able to
move, but I had to prove it. When the false information
went around that I’d ended up tetraplegic and colleagues
even believed that I was bedridden… I had to stop
the rumors. That’s why I came out and danced in those
conditions. But the worst thing about it was that it happened
to me at my prime, just when I was eating up the world…
my way. I used to walk from El Cerro downtown, which took
me an hour, I’d go to Silvia de Paz’s studio
and on two cups of coffee and some pastry or another, I
could dance and dance for hours. I was brimming over and
I just wanted to move forward. And crash! I also think that
I’ve been able to take advantage of this setback a
different way, through my restlessness to want to dance.
Although my body hasn’t been able to dance, my mind
has danced. Before that, I used to go out on stage and I
was an earthquake. I drove Canales and Farruquito crazy
because what I wanted was to dance more and solo; I wasn’t
afraid of anything. Afterwards, I had to accept that my
body wasn’t responding and learn to dance differently,
using other resources. And now I have the self-confidence
and vitality back that I used to have, but I also have something
else that having been injured has taught me. I’ve
learned a lot thanks to the accident, I’ve realized
a lot of things… I might have crashed if I’d
carried on otherwise, I might have learned all of this a
lot later on. It all happened at a time when the people
and artists expected a lot from me. And now I feel that
it’s the time once again.
But there were always colleagues
who believed in you, weren’t there?
I have to thank Antonio Canales a great
deal. If I could dance with him for five minutes, I danced
for five minutes. If it was twenty minutes, twenty. To me,
Antonio Canales, hats off to him! When I did ‘Sangre
de Edipo’ with him and with Lola Greco at the Festival
de Mérida, I didn’t even know if I was going
to be able to walk. He introduced me to Hansel Cereza and
I was wearing a neck brace and had crutches, and he couldn’t
believe that I was going to be Ismene. I could see his face
went really pale, he asked Antonio if I was the one who
was going to dance and Antonio said yes, for him not to
worry, that I was going to be there even if I didn’t
dance, that I had to be Ismene. And in the end I danced,
I gave myself I don’t know how many shots... but the
thing is that I needed it. When a doctor tells you before
operating on you that you have an eighty percent chance
of ending up tetraplegic, your mind… Antonio told
me that I was going, that he’d lift me up on stage,
that my face was enough for him, that I was Ismene. And
Lola Greco helped me a great deal, just like Merche
Esmeralda when I danced with her and with Javier Barón.
The strongest aftereffects I’ve had are in my hands.
There are times when they fall asleep, although on stage
nobody realizes it. Merche was with me when I’d just
finished dancing and as soon as she saw my face was pale,
she started to calm me, to massage my hands… I’ve
really been lucky with my colleagues. And I emphasize Canales
because, moreover, he’s given me my place. He’s
to be thanked for having a lame woman dancing… hee
hee hee. He very artfully asked wardrobe to really doll
me up.
Afterwards, you’ve collaborated
with Farruquito, Javier Latorre and Andrés Marín.
How is it that you fit it with such different styles?
That was what I thought was strange, because
they weren’t auditions. I just wanted to go to some
of Eva Yerbabuena’s auditions, but I couldn’t
because I got a job in Germany. And it’s something
I would have loved, being in her company, imagine what you
learn, what she can teach you and what it must be like to
be beside that bailaora. The other one that I did was for
Cristina Hoyos and I was really young, really brutish, and
of course, there was no room for me in her show. And no
more afterwards. Andrés, Canales, Latorre came to
the tablao to see me and get me… And I might just
as easily find myself beside Farruquito,
as performing a role in Latorre’s ‘Rinconte
y Cortadillo’, then Andrés with another baile
thing... I thought: what are they looking for in me? And
the thing is that in reality I apparently don’t have
much to do with nearly any of them, but all of them respected
my ways. It was a surprising experience for me, and moreover,
all in a single season. I had just come back then after
having been in Barcelona for nine months and I had my act
together, with my baile much more elaborate. I learned a
lot there with colleagues like Rosario Toledo. That was
when I started dancing with such different people. But what
marked me for good happened much earlier, when I joined
Manuela Carrasco’s company with ‘La Diosa’
at the age of seventeen. A dream come true.
What did you learn from Manuela
Carrasco?
I remember one day when she came out por
alegrías wearing a white bata de cola and doing bullfighting,
we boys and girls were around her clapping for her, I saw
that woman come out… I stopped clapping and I burst
out crying. I saw that such great woman, that face of hers,
that bata positioned… that’s art! The technique
of art is really something that you can’t learn anywhere.
She’s been my school although she’s never been
my instructor. You really realize what flamenco is there.
Everybody knows who Manuela is and even so, there are people
who say that por tientos no… that so on and so forth…
and they should stop nitpicking and look at her greatness.
Although your taste is really varied…
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“I
like every person who believes in himself and who demonstrates
that what he’s doing is true”
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Of course it is. And thank God there are
other kinds of styles! That’s the good thing about
flamenco, that other types of dances have come into it and
now there’s a huge range to choose from. Recently
a Japanese woman who interviewed me asked me who I liked
dancing. The truth is that I like every person who believes
in himself and who demonstrates that what he’s doing
is true. And that includes Israel Galván, Andrés
Marín, Manuela Carrasco, Farruquito, Rocío
Molina, Pastora Galván, my brother Rafael…
And the journalist couldn’t believe that I liked Israel
and Farruquito. Why not? If both of them are equally pure
in their feeling, if both of them demonstrate what they
truly feel inside. Not believing that is to be uneducated
in flamenco and in art. Why can’t you like a painting
by Velázquez and one by Picasso? That your sphere
lies more in one person, OK, but both of them have made
me cry. I’m not changeable, but rather sensitive to
art.
***
The conversation keeps on getting entangled
in the avant-garde latticework of the courtyard. And then
the question comes about projects, about how Adela Campallo
is going to demonstrate the bailaora she is today, after
Manuela, after visiting so many planets, after the accident,
after the recovery… The response is double, since
she isn’t working in one, but in two shows at the
same time, aware of the demand: “I think it’s
better to have different options for different venues, than
to mutilate a show already created for a larger scale. An
artist’s mistake is to remove what enriches and what
gives a show vitality in order to make it smaller. I think
it’s better to have a broad mind to set up different
shows and for people to enjoy each of them at the right
venue”.
The large-scale one is ‘7 de mayo’,
a show inspired by her own maternity. “When I had
my son and then I recovered from my back injury, I saw everything
that he’d given me: vitality, light, energy, temperance…
and also sadness, for everything. My son has given me the
desire to live and I wanted to dedicate something to him”,
the bailaora explains. And the truth is that beforehand
she had also thought about staging not just the story of
her dramatic experience, but rather “to reflect the
merit which many people have, among them me, for fighting
and fighting because the art is what leads you”. In
fact, she designed it with stage director Hansel Cereza.
“It’s there, but for the time being, no program
organizer has been interested in it”, she points out
with resignation.
But she turns the page and right away her
face lights up with ‘7 de mayo’: “I don’t
know why, I move from what I’m living. It always happens
to me when I set up a baile that I reflect what I’m
living at that moment, the energy, if I’m sad, if
I’m happy”. And in this show, as she comments,
“everything refers to what I’ve learned in this
course of my life when I’ve become a mother and I’ve
formed a family”. She captures it on stage, as could
already be seen in the sneak preview in Holland, with “elegance,
flamenco flavor and creativity contributed by a team of
artists in which I’m accompanied by guitarists Juan
Campallo and David Vargas in the musical scores, the lighting
designed by Óscar de los Reyes, collaboration in
the choreography by Rafael Campallo in the tangos for three
bailaoras and the contribution of Javier Barón as
assistant director”. Plus the lyrics which Adela herself
has written to Manuel. Some of them go like this: “Heart
of mine, take the light from me, if you need it”.
So it is no surprise that when the sneak preview was performed
in Dutch lands, her colleague Mercedes Ruiz left her a little
note congratulating her on her show and highlighting one
quality in it: her sensitivity.
And the show for more intimate venues is
called ‘Horizonte’…
Adela Campallo
presents ‘Horizonte’ in the Cajasol’s
Jueves Flamencos series (Sala Joaquín
Turina, Seville) on May 13th, 2010
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